


Not Quite Shakespearean

by orphan_account



Category: Japanese Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Practice Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: tired: roméo & juliettewired: roméo & tybalt & benvolio & mercutio(Various short stories about the 2019 Roméo & Juliette cast, mostly explorations of old and new relationships, with occasional kissing.)





	1. Hirose, Ryon, Rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a crime considering my username. Coughs.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

It's the little things.

It's when he texts you at midnight on February 16th, but _ he _ surprises you with a reservation at an unreasonably expensive restaurant with a panoramic view of the city for your birthday. It's when he sends you a picture of a dog he met on the street, but _ he _ offers to walk Manda while you're out of town.

It's when you're still holding out for your first love to come home and tell you he doesn't _ need time to think about it _ anymore after making you wait for the past nine years despite the perfect man walking into your life.

* * *

"Why?"

"...Why? What do you want me to say?" Hirose slips his hand into his pocket, clearing his throat as he pushes his bag up his shoulder.

"We have rehearsal again tomorrow." Ryon finishes tying his boots and throws his sneakers into a bag, glancing up towards Hirose with furrowed brows. "You know this. We can wait until next weekend."

"Ah." Hirose fiddles with the strap of his bag, worried he might have caused offense. "I just thought of tomorrow... After rehearsal of course. I understand if you want to focus on work."

They're interrupted by the youngest guys in the company's obnoxious goodbyes, the both of them wearing overly expensive looking coats over sweatstained sports shirts and contrasting branded caps that betrayed their age, Tatsunari bowing and thanking each member of the cast with reverence while Mario did the same behind him, clearly mocking his friend.

"...Because it's been a year since we met." Hirose watches Ryon's reaction as the younger man stands up, trying to understand his generally undecipherable eyes.

"Has it?"

"Yeah." Hirose smiles, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before continuing. "You were getting ready for that press conference and I passed by."

He knew _ of _ him, friend of friends and mistimed shared productions and TV screens in nephew’s houses and children hero show magazine covers, but nothing could have prepared him for the man's beauty. Heavily lidded eyes that pierced right through him despite the dark hair covering them, the dissonance between his rich voice and frail frame, the numerous tattoos he didn't even bother covering in rehearsal.

Daisuke brings Hirose back to the present with a vigorous slap to his back on his way out of the rehearsal hall and squeezes Ryon's shoulder while wishing both of them a good evening, leaving the two of them alone aside from the staff cleaning up the venue hall.

"So you're going to invite Daichan as well?" Ryon starts walking towards the door, inviting Hirose to follow him with a nod.

"Please. It's more like our tenth anniversary. You know--"

"Yes. Yes, I know. Please. Not the T-word." Ryon chuckles despite his jab, flustering Hirose. "Thanks to those two kids and Daichan I've heard more about tennis within these past weeks than I've had my entire life. At least Furukawa just does weird gestures I can ignore."

"Are Souchan and you opening a hate club?" Hirose pushes the door, holding it open for his coworker. Chivalry isn't dead.

"Nothing of the like. I know a thing or two about not shutting up about what brought me here." Ryon's eyes sparkle for a moment before a shadow of bitterness tints his smile.

They walk in silence for a moment, Ryon huddling up against Hirose's side when his pockets fail to provide enough warmth on this January night.

"Let's go. I don't want you to have to cancel the reservation."

Hirose answers with a smile, his arm carefully wrapping around Ryon's waist as they make their way to the train station.

* * *

They move to the bar after finishing their generous meal, Ryon placing each of his orders with guilt despite Hirose repeatedly insisting that it was okay, that it was all on him, to not worry about it, no seriously he can pay for this.

Maybe he didn't expect to still be on his first Whiskey on the rocks while Ryon ordered his third drink.

It couldn't be nerves, Ryon used to dates despite himself (_ We should see other people first _ is what Shu had said almost 4 years ago now) and it wasn't exhaustion, weeks of rehearsals still ahead of them.

"Is it good?"

"Hm?" Ryon looks away from the rim of his glass to turn towards Hirose, the older man handsome in his overdressedness, his dress shirt hugging his muscular shoulders far too tightly, the button at his chest clearly struggling to stay attached. At least his blazer had been discarded onto his barstool. "Yeah. Want to try it?"

"Sure." Hirose's lips wrap around the straw, taking a sip of the Concord, dangerously attractive with those closed eyes and soft pink lips.

“So what makes you think we have to celebrate our one year anniversary of... acquaintance?” Ryon slides the cocktail back towards him, feeling like a child for his momentary thought regarding the straw shared by their lips.

“I’d like to believe it’s more than that.” Hirose doesn’t break eye contact, confident in all of his embarrassing words.

“Bold of you.” Ryon doesn’t realize he was crushing the straw between his teeth, nervous at the thought of leading him on. Not that it was entirely unintentional. Or insincere.

“I like being with you.”

“Cheesy.”

“Do you always deflect people who take you out of your comfort zone?”

“Yes.” Ryon doesn’t jerk away when Hirose’s hand softly places itself over his fist.

“Listen... I’ll wait until you’re ready. And if you don’t want me to wait, I won’t.” Hirose’s low voice itches at Ryon’s chest. Burns. “But you shouldn’t wait for anyone. You deserve better.”

Ryon sees his fist loosening up, turning his hand over to slip his fingers between Hirose’s, not fully registering what he was doing, still processing those words.

“You like me?”

Hirose laughs warmly, their conversation inching too close to grade school levels for two men in their thirties.

“I thought it was obvious. I guess I didn’t want to come on too strong either.” Hirose’s smile hurts. He’s perfect.

Ryon can’t make him wait. He can’t tell him he _ needs time to think about it _.

His free hand reaches for the back of Hirose’s neck, tangling into his long hair, unsure whether it was the alcohol or the lighting or if Hirose’s eyes had always looked this profound and luminous, gazing into his with overwhelming affection.

His lips feel just as good as they look, plump and dewy and welcoming Ryon’s mouth on them, Hirose’s hand moving to his face. Large fingers fondly tracing the length of his jawline before settling onto his cheek, Hirose’s thumb caressing the tattooed area below his ear while Ryon squeezes the hand he had been holding.

Time stops with their kiss, no care for their surroundings, Hirose’s mouth washing away any other taste from Ryon’s tongue.


	2. Mario, Tatsunari, Yuuta, Tokyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tatsunari talked about how Yuuta's lips look "soft" at an event in March before even spending the entire summer making out with him for Elisabeth (Yuuta's character, Death, and Tatsunari's character, Rudolf, have a kiss scene)
> 
> Meanwhile Mario keeps talking about how "beautiful" Yuuta is and how much he admires him, he even borrowed A Friend's copies of DVDs of musicals Yuuta is in to "study" him.
> 
> Needless to say I'm endlessly amused by these two's obsession with their senior.

"Dude. Mario." Tatsunari presses close to Mario, his hushed voice weirdly high pitched as he repeatedly pulls on Mario's sleeve. "Guess what."

"You're going sober?" Mario tucks his wig-ruined hair into his cap, trying his best to ignore Tatsunari practically bouncing besides him.

"No! Even more unbelievable." Tatsunari looks around before saying more, his self-consciousness when surrounded by seniors uncharacteristic to a comical level for Mario, who knew his best friend as the rudest punk around. "It's Furukawa-san! He... He!!"

"Oh my god. Spill it." Mario nods and waves at the handful of ensemble cast members passing by their dressing room door before Tatsunari blocks his field of vision, placing himself right in Mario's face, both hands on Mario's shoulders, sharp eyes wide open and mouth twisted into one of those awkward (yet admittedly adorable) smiles of his.

"Furukawa-san. He invited me out." Tatsunari is either shaking Mario's shoulders or vibrating with his entire being. "Like. A date."

Mario bursts out laughing, which only makes his friend squint and pout like the child he was embracing being after he had pretended to be a rebellious adult for most of his youth.

"Okay. What makes you think it's a date." Mario doesn't want to outright ruin his friend's dreams, but he knew a little too much gossip about Furukawa to believe he was single and ready to mingle.

"I don't know! But he asked me if I wanted to go get food together!" Tatsunari's ears are getting red, which is definitely a far more familiar sight for Mario than the gushing man-child. He gasps before continuing. "I can't go dressed like this!"   


"Hello? Have you never invited a coworker out for food?" Mario raises an eyebrow while pulling up Tatsunari's pants, helping his friend look like slightly less of a thug than his post-performance outfits typically did.

"No."

"Okay. Forgot you were an asshole."

"Shut up!" Tatsunari's blush reaches his cheeks. "I go out all the time! With groups! For drinks! The more the merrier! Or with you and the others from our team. But that's different! We're like brothers!"

Mario snorts at that last comment. He may be a single child, but he's fairly sure brothers wouldn't act the way Tatsunari used to around Seiya.

"Um."

Tatsunari's hands shoot up and away from Mario's shoulders, turning 180 degrees to face the door despite Mario's fingers still hooked at the hem of his pants.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt anything." Furukawa's low voice, roughened by singing and cigarette consumption alike, seems to agitate Tatsunari while Mario can't help but snicker behind him.

"Furukawa-san! No! Of course! It's alright!" Tatsunari bows unnecessarily low, Mario shrugging his shoulders. "Good work today! It was an amazing performance! As always!"

Mario clears his throat loudly to avoid laughing.

"Oh. Thank you." Furukawa's face barely moves, unphased by his junior's antics. "Are you free this evening, Mario?"

Tatsunari practically jumps out of his bow, glancing at Mario in horror.

"I am." Mario smiles at his senior, ignoring the threatening glare his friend was now aiming towards him.

"Ah, great." Furukawa's voice lacks in emotion, but the depth of it was enough to make any sensible person weak in the knees. And Mario just so happens to be extremely sensible. And sensitive. "I'd like to get food with you and Tatsunari."

"I'd love that." Mario walks past Tatsunari to follow their senior before turning around to look at his friend, his cheeky smile met with the angriest frown he's ever seen on Tatsunari's face. And he's seen Tatsunari wear angry frowns far too often.


	3. Yuuta, Daichan, Aichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so mundane but I really wanted to explore how plain and domestic these two old friends are.
> 
> And yes, these two truly did mention having been roommates in an interview!

It's already late when they arrive in Kariya, ushered into a waiting room as some of the production staff members go deal with check-in at the reception counter. Yuuta melts into one of the sofa chairs, too tired to even take his phone out of his bag, watching Tatsunari and Aoi squeal around the table of snacks and sweets the hotel had prepared for them as Haruka and Mario attempted to hush them despite grabbing even more food than they were.

“Coffee?” Daisuke appears in his line of sight, handing him a freshly poured coffee.

“Seems like you’re not giving me much choice.” Yuuta looks up at his old friend with a smile he hadn’t noticed forming on his lips.

“You looked like you needed it.” Daisuke sits down next to him, clearly unaware that the seat was meant for one (then again, neither did Ryon, sitting in Hirose’s lap a few seats away).

It’s kind of Daisuke to not say Yuuta always looked like he needed coffee. Which, quite frankly, was the case. They don’t exchange any other words, the silence between them always so comfortable, the kind of comfort Yuuta rarely experienced when constantly confronted by people who expect too much of him.

"What's taking so long?" Hirama is the first to get impatient, lying on his back after half an hour of stretching on the floor, possibly ready to spend the night there.

Yuuta is tempted to join him but sighs as he stands up instead, regretfully leaving Daisuke's side to fulfill his chairman duty by checking up on the staff members.

"Let me come with you!" Ohno practically stumbles out of his seat, striding out of the waiting room at Yuuta's heels.

The staff members seem upset yet not as distressed as the receptionist they were surrounding, the hotel's employees trying to answer calls and greet new customers despite clearly being distracted by Ohno, glancing at him repeatedly in attempts to remember what TV program they had seen him on. Yuuta listens in on the conversation while his counterpart shoots dopey smiles at the employees, oblivious to his own standing.

Sounds like not enough rooms had been reserved, leaving them with one room less than there were cast members. It's almost absurd to Yuuta, who had spent years sharing budget hotel rooms with coworkers before receiving _The Toho Treatment_. Growing up in rural Nagano, little prepares you to hearing people fight to get you your personal hotel room with king-sized bed and integrated bathroom.

"I'll just share." Yuuta's dull tone does little to diminish the staff members' surprise. Ohno tries to volunteer, arguing that Yuuta had more performances than him this weekend and deserved rest, but it falls on deaf ears. "It's fine. I'll stay with Daisuke. The others are tired."

The receptionist stares at the production staff who in turn stare at Yuuta, who just shrugs his shoulders. Maybe he should have asked his ex-roommate first. Oh well.

* * *

This is the opposite of a problem.

Sleepiness seems to have dulled Yuuta’s senses already, the thin man laying flat on the bed despite being fully clothed. His eyes slowly drift open when Daisuke walks back into their room, his visit to the hotel’s communal baths cut short by the utter lack of relaxation provided by the chattering and gossiping of his younger co-actors.

“Hey.” Yuuta sits up, not bothered to brush his bangs out of his eyes, his shirt riding up on his hip.

Who was Daisuke trying to convince. He just wanted to come back to this man as soon as possible.

It had been a few years since they moved out of their shared apartment, their careers finally stable enough to afford their own place in Tokyo, but few things provided as much comfort as the sight of Yuuta waiting for him. Daisuke still tries convincing himself that it was the correct decision, that he had suggested they get their own places because it was probably what Yuuta wanted, that his friend needed space to be able to reach his ambitions.

That his friend was just that. An old friend. A teammate. Sometimes a roommate. Nothing less. Nothing more.

But then there was this. The way Yuuta's foxy eyes soften when they find Daisuke, slowly trailing down the lines of his neck and curves of his chest, the younger man not bothering to be meek at the sight of Daisuke's bathrobe-clad body.

Yuuta extends his hand when Daisuke starts drying off his hair, a silent exchange. He hands Yuuta his towel before sitting at the edge of their bed, closing his eyes when long fingers rub his scalp through the towel. It was familiar, always, the faint sweetness of Yuuta's scent that was meant to mask smoke, his quiet breathing, his cold hands Daisuke so desperately wants to warm.

"I'm sorry." Yuuta's rugged voice surprises Daisuke, who turns to face his old friend.

"What for?"

"I'm imposing." Yuuta's cold chuckle hints towards embarrassment.

"Of course not. I'd gladly invite you even if it weren't for the mix up--" Daisuke realizes what he's just said when Yuuta's tired eyes widen. "I mean to say that it doesn't bother me."

Daisuke isn't sure whether it's relief or disappointment he catches in Yuuta's eyes when they lower, but his hand finds its way to Yuuta's thigh, large fingers softly embracing the gaunt limb.

"You're doing what you think is best for everyone. I'm happy to be taken along." Daisuke is interrupted by abstract giggling and yelping noises coming from the hallway beyond their door, stopped only by what sounds like Ryon shouting a threatening  _ shut up _ . "...For better or for worse."

Yuuta smiles at him, possibly consciously this time, his soft lips puckering slightly as he lays back on the bed, and Daisuke wonders if he imagines his legs spreading further apart, not showing any hint of displeasure over the hand resting on his leg.

"Movie?” Yuuta grabs the remote from the bedside table before scooting over to let Daisuke lay down besides him.

“Gladly.”


	4. Hirama, Mario, Osaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!
> 
> Sorry this one is really dirty coughs. I just love them Mercutios

Kuroba goes down without a fight, sitting on the edge of his hotel bed as if it were the most natural thing for him to obey older men without question.

“What do you need, Hirama-san?” Kuroba looks up at him, all smiles.

Why would he even bother asking that other than to spite him? There was no need to paint a picture when the past 3 months could be summed up with Ohno giving everyone cavities with the constant sweet talking his partner on the phone, Hirose and Ryon cuddling the second they weren’t on stage, Tatsunari running off with whatever half-decent men they bumped into in hotel lobbies in the evenings, and Furukawa and Watanabe acting like an old married couple as per usual.

It was irritating beyond belief, but not as much as this kid could be.

“What do you think?” Hirama grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, their height difference placing Mario’s face at the level of his chest despite Hirama standing.

Kuroba is quiet as he stares into his eyes without wavering, beads of water hanging off his long hair, the skin of his wrist still warm from showering.

He was perfect to an untrained eye, beauty paling next to his mind, always so obedient in rehearsals, humble words and polite interactions with his seniors fooling most into believing there wasn’t a bad bone in his body.

But Hirama had noticed the way Kuroba pretended to look up to him and model his performance after his only to turn around and do the exact opposite, a cruel spark in his eyes when the director would praise his performance.

“Are you lonely?” Kuroba’s smile softens, his legs spreading slightly. “These hotel rooms are way too big for one. They’re spoiling us.”

And then there was this. Hirama can’t deny the thumping in his chest, but he knew Kuroba wasn’t giving him special treatment. He had heard him call everyone and their dad _Baby_, had seen him touching this stagehand’s arm and that caterer’s waist, had watched him attempt to kiss Ryon and successfully kiss Tatsunari’s cheeks, several times, before turning around to text someone he called his _Partner_.

“And you’d help because you’re a slut, is that right?” Hirama knows the younger man is sharp enough to perceive the poison in his words beyond the cheerful pitch of his voice.

“I prefer calling myself kind.” Kuroba’s voice lowers, hoarse from singing for hours every other day. “But whatever you say.”

It was almost insulting to watch this kid go, his shady behavior regarding performance aspects not nearly as frustrating as how easily he could enchant people without even trying, and Hirama hates to think of how many men this boy might have been with while he was walking into his thirties without ever finding another man to love and be loved by.

“Easy is more like it.” Hirama guides Kuroba’s hand towards him, placing it against his stomach, shuddering when his long fingers trail across his body.

“Is this what you want, Hirama-san?” Kuroba’s voice is barely above a whisper now, his big eyes staring up like the obedient puppy he likes to make others believe he is.

Kuroba works him for a minute, slender fingers as deft as expected, lips softly parting, as if inviting Hirama to use him further. But his eyes catch another enticing aspect.

“You’re hard.” Hirama mentally slaps himself for that unnecessary comment, his surprise getting the best of him. It was... flattering, somehow, to have such an admittedly beautiful young man yearn for him.

“Yeah.” Kuroba spreads his legs further, the prominent bump in his pants making Hirama consider running away for a moment. “Of course I am. I want you.”

Hirama knows this was as much of a lie as Kuroba saying he’d model his performance after his, yet he can’t listen to reason when facing this succubus. Crawling into his lap, he figures reason and regret would wait until tomorrow.


	5. Mario, Tatsunari, Thoughts of Yuuta, After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations on safely making it through Elisabeth even if you’ve been talking about how soft Yuuta’s lips look since the beginning of the year, Tatsunari (said at his calendar release event).

"Then let's practice."

"Practice what!?" Tatsunari throws his feet off of the karaoke room's table and straightens himself up, as if it'd drain the alcohol out of his brain and help him understand Mario better.

"You've been whining for the past two hours." Mario puts down the song selection tablet, grabbing a handful of fries from their shared plate. "If you're nervous about kissing U-tan, just get better at it."

"I don't need to get better at it!" Tatsunari throws his head back to down the rest of his (third) drink despite the fact that there was nothing but ice cubes left at the bottom of it. "Also we really need to stop using that nickname."

Mario chuckles and turns towards Tatsunari, leaning against the couch before throwing his legs in Tatsunari's lap. Heavy.

"Probably. But seeing Furukawa-san getting all flustered over it is worth it." Mario ruffles his own hair, his tired eyes staring at him as Tatsunari picks up the phone, calling the reception desk to get a beer pitcher.

"You cheeky little shit." Tatsunari pinches his knee, Mario kicking the air before laughing that low laugh of his.

"You don't get to call me that!" Mario is still laughing when a staff member knocks on their door to drop off Tatsunari's beer, clearly distressed at the thought that they might have interrupted something. "I wonder what Furukawa-san would think if he knew how rude you used to be."

"I've matured, okay. It's a good thing!" Tatsunari's left hand stays on Mario's leg while his other reaches for the pitcher, picking it up to drink directly from it, aware Mario cut down on beer a few years ago.

"Yeah. You're real classy." Mario's flat tone turns into more laughing when Tatsunari chokes on his drink, beer spilling down his chin and unto his shirt.

"Fucking fantastic." Tatsunari grumbles, wishing they had kept singing instead of having to deal with Mario's shade.

"I'm sorry." There's not even a hint of sincerity in Mario's voice. "I shouldn't make fun of your crush on Furukawa-san."

"I don't have a crush!" Tatsunari swears it's the alcohol that heats up his face. "Besides... He's with someone."

"You're saying that like it stopped you before." Mario is always impossibly difficult to deal with.

"Don't put me at your level." Tatsunari needs to hire a new best friend. "I wouldn't do that to Watanabe-san."

"Hm. Let's say I believe you." Mario throws his arm behind his head to rest on it, his eyes barely open, his ability to look like he just woke up even past midnight almost admirable. "Don't you have to kiss him anyways?"

"Yeah? For work? Come on man." Tatsunari crosses his arms defensively. "We're out here kissing girls for work."

Mario chuckles before biting his lips. "I don't mind it."

"Speak for yourself, horny." Tatsunari earns a well-deserved kick. "It's just... His lips look so soft..."

"Yeah." Mario's smirk is obvious even in the barely lit room.

"Stop laughing." Tatsunari gulps down more beer, even if it's probably the last thing he should be doing right now. "He's so kind. He puts time aside to help me with the choreography... He doesn't smile often but he did when I brought him coffee before practice..."

"You did WHAT?" Mario still sounds amused more than anything. "That's our move!"

"Shut up! It's common courtesy!" Tatsunari stuffs fries into his mouth, ignoring the crumbs that fall on Mario's pants.

"Uh huh. So, how often did you buy coffee for your volleyball co-actors?" Mario is relentless.

"I got drinks for Takato all the time!" 

" _ See. _ "

"Stop!!"

"You're a mess." Mario sweeps the crumbs off his pants. "Do whatever you want. Just don't blame me if you scare Furukawa-san off with your terribly sloppy makeout skills."

"Excuse me! What the fuck are you talking about!" Tatsunari can now pretend anger is what's turning his skin red. "Because you're such an expert now!"

"Well actually, people seem to think so." Mario is being uncharacteristically confident, and Tatsunari hates that he knows it's backed by facts.

"Can't you just give me advice or something?" Tatsunari grumbles, upset he already reached the end of his pitcher.

"How very unlike you to not want to work hard and practice until you're the best." Mario's fingers fidget with his ring. "You know,  _ for work? _ "

"Is this for your sake or for mine?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Mario really knew how to be cruel when he wanted to be. And their friends always claim Tatsunari is the mean one... "Be glad I'm not telling you to get in line."

Frustrating. But Tatsunari knew this side of his former teammate better than anyone, and also knew he was the only one who wouldn't make a fuss or think of anything if they did this.

So they did.

Tatsunari lunges towards Mario, grabbing the wrist above his head to pin it against the wall in an attempt to impress Mario with his strength (which is not very effective) before slamming his mouth against Mario's puckered lips.

He invites Tatsunari in, lips parting to welcome his tongue, the softest moans at the back of his friend's throat. It doesn't take long before Mario presses on his chest, easily pushing Tatsunari off with his own strength.

"See." Mario wipes his pink lips against the fabric of his sleeve. "That was gross. Don't shove your tongue inside Furukawa-san's mouth on the Imperial Theater's stage. You're not eating out his face. I'd have to disown you."

Tatsunari is heating up, embarrassed and annoyed by Mario's criticism. But his former teammate doesn't wait to straddle his lap, Mario's face now above Tatsunari's, looking down on him both figuratively and literally.

"Be slower." Mario's hot breath caresses Tatsunari's lips with each syllable. "Make him hunger for you. Make him desperate to taste you."

It's horrible. Tatsunari can feel sweat beading all over his skin.

"Let him take the lead. Let him use your lips." Mario's lips barely brush over Tatsunari's, shivers running up his spine at both the sensation and his friend's incredibly low, erotic tone of voice. "Make him unable to think of anything but your mouth."

Tatsunari bites Mario's lower lip, not interested in hearing another word of his lesson. A grunt and he presses their lips together, the erratic thumping of his heart not allowing him to fully register the way Mario's lips move, masterfully sucking and caressing Tatsunari's thin lips.

Mario simply rests his hands on Tatsunari's shoulders, not even squeezing them, frustrating Tatsunari for not even being interested in touching him. It's not like Tatsunari felt any particular attraction towards his best friend, but there was no way for him to stop his hands from reaching for Mario's bubble butt and squeezing it.

"Uh." Mario breaks their kiss, their big noses bumping into each other. "Please don't grab Furukawa-san's ass."

"Shut up." Tatsunari growls, ignoring the burn of his cheeks at the thought of it. "He's not the one I'm kissing right now. Unfortunately."

Mario chuckles before closing the distance between their mouths again, slowly slipping his tongue along Tatsunari's lips. "Show him you want him inside of you. Ask for his tongue--"

Mario is cut short again, Tatsunari's tongue pushing on his until their mouths are fully connected, parting only to breathe.

The phone rings after what feels like ages of kissing, the reception desk notifying them of the end of their karaoke session. Or makeout session, rather.

"Guess class is over." Mario slides off of Tatsunari's lap with seemingly no regrets.

"When's the next one?" Tatsunari clears his throat before standing up, trying not to trip over his own tipsy self.

"Hm. Hopefully never. Go impress Furukawa-san."


End file.
